"Froggy Waters," chose Fatty--and poor little Marmaduke was left to the last, as if he were the worst player in the whole world.
"Well," said Dicky, "I spouse I've got to take him. But he'll lose the game for us."
He turned to Marmaduke.
"I'll tell you what, Marmy," he said, "you can be the spectators--a whole pile of them--in the grand stand. Wouldn't you like to be a grand stand? That's great. Isn't it, fellows?"
"Sure," they all said, grinning, but Marmaduke didn't want to be any spectator, not even a grand stand. He wanted to be doing things, not watching. Lose that game, would he? No, he'd show them, he'd win it instead. He'd hit that ball clean over the fence--so far they'd never find it. But whew! That wouldn't do. He'd better not hit it quite so far or he'd lose his dandy Rocket ball.
But they had to give in and let him play before he would give them that ball. Then the two captains told their men to take their positions.
"I'll pitch," declared Dicky, "'n Reddy'll catch. Skinny you play 'first,' and Marmaduke out in the field. You kin go to sleep, too, for all I care--for you can't catch anything even if you had a peach basket to hold it in."
"Play ball!" shouted Fatty, and they all took their places, Dicky's team in the field, and Fatty's at the bat.
Marmaduke had to stand way out, and he didn't have much to do for a while, for the other team either struck out, or hit the ball towards Dicky, the pitcher, or Skinny at 'first.' Once a ball did come his way "Hold it!" shouted Dicky, but Marmaduke was so excited that he threw himself right at it, and the ball rolled between his legs.
"Aw! didn't I tell you?" said Dicky in disgust, and all on the other team shouted: